


Cellars: hotbeds of romance and intrigue!

by LordJixis



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Canon-Typical Stupidity, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, It's only rated T cause I have a potty mouth this is soft y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 07:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20701859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordJixis/pseuds/LordJixis
Summary: If she'd had a choice, Yona wouldn't have picked a cellar.





	Cellars: hotbeds of romance and intrigue!

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, if this seems familiar, it's probably because it's a fic I published on ff.net like, over five years ago. It's been edited but's it's still the same in all the major ways. Including the title, if you somehow want the unedited version written by a pimply teenager with an edgy name on a worse site.

Blood is pounding in her ears, a racing thump-thump that echoes her frantic footfalls. She'd been dawdling (stupid, stupid) and now she'll pay for it. Dearly.

She stops at a crossroads, scanning frantically down the alleys. Bits and bobs are scattered in the spaces between homes, but nothing big enough to hide behind. Or in, preferably. Fuck, she isn't going to find somewhere in time.

Yona chooses left at random, bolting down an alley that's only describable in it's nondescript-ness. The next crossroads bears a similar sight; she darts off to the right this time. There's a barrel around the next corner; she frantically pries the lid off only to find it already full of flour. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

She sprints to the next corner, skidding at the turn in her desperation. She's focusing so much on running she doesn't comprehend why she's being dragged backwards till the direction switches, and she's suddenly falling… down?

Down, past the ground. Down, into what seems to be a cellar. A mini-cellar. A cellar so mini she can feel her assailant's muscled chest pressed against her back as he reaches up and tugs down the trapdoor.

“You'll pay for this,” she promises to the darkness, tensing up. Her hand is slipping down, fingers brushing the hidden blade she'd acquired when Hak had been busy.

“This is a terrible way to treat your savior, Princess,” rumbles a deep, familiar voice. Right. She should've expected that. Her hand flutters away from the knife, grateful she hadn't actually taken it out. Or stabbed him. The thought makes her face twist up without her consent; she needs to take a moment to remind herself that she's mad at him and he would've deserved it.

Plus, he's been through worse. A measly stabbing wouldn't kill Hak.

Bolstered by that thought, she lets her annoyance creep back. “You can't just – you can't just grab me and drag me into a cellar without a word! I thought you were a soldier! Or worse!”

* * *

Hak smirks at the blushing princess. Well. It's technically too dark to see her blushing, but he _knows_ she is – he can picture it perfectly, the not-yet-red tint her cheeks would be, the dusting of pink on her ears.

He could press now, tease her till her whole face is the color of her hair. He won't. But he could.

Partly because he has a shred of decency somewhere in him. Mostly because there isn't much space in this cellar, and her hair is brushing the bottom of his chin, softer than it should be after months living in tents. It smells like herbs, like spices, and like something so devastatingly sweet it promises that he'll never forget her status as royalty.

It's not like how she smelled back at the palace. The palace had been thick perfume and flowers – this sweetness is different. Like honey. Like dessert.

Like the spring, at last.

He has the all-too-familiar urge to nuzzle into her hair. Drape his arms around her, squeeze and never let go.

Ahem.

There's only so much that can be explained away as harmless pranks.

Silence reigns, only broken by the rustling of the princess' clothes as she tries to get comfortable. That endeavor is soon given up on, and pure silence stretches just into the edges of awkwardness till she breaks it. “Thanks,” she mutters. “Just try to be less creepy about it next time.”

He hums noncommittally - can't exactly say 'you're welcome' when he'd saved her mostly for his own benefit, now can he? When you lose a round of Hide and Seek with the Happy Hungry Bunch, you owe a favor to the winner.

They had little else to bargain with.

Normally it was an extra portion, laundry, some chore or snack or errand, but he'll be damned if he'll let Yona owe a favor to any of the perverts in their group.

(As an unintentional consequence, the forced proximity is... not bad.)

Apparently satisfied with that, Yona returns to her fidgeting. She's trying to turn to face him, he realizes in a moment, and maneuvers to make it easier. She smashes her knee into his (probably accidentally) for the effort.

It's a bit of a struggle, but they end up chest-to-chest. Or, pedantically, chest-to-stomach, considering her small stature (Hak wisely doesn't mention this. The princess is not one for pedantics).

Her head is tilted up to look at him – he knows because her eyes catch light even when there's none to catch, big and almost-glowing in the absolute darkness that surrounds them. She's panting softly from the squirming it took to achieve their current position – he can feel her lungs filling and releasing against him, hummingbird-quick. She wiggles a bit, trying to get comfortable, and he can feel that too.

He jerks his gaze away and counts to ten. Then does it again for good measure.

It doesn't help – she makes it so hard without even trying.

“Do you think he can see us in here?” she asks once she stills again; oblivious, as always, to Hak's inner turmoil.

“Who knows?” Not even Yoon has figured out the extent of the blue dragon's powers: what he can and can't see through and just how far he _could_ see. It's actually a terrible idea to have him be 'it' in a game that's probably impossible for him to play fair at, but the Happy Hungry Bunch isn't known for their good ideas.

(Hak prays that he can't and won't see them. That him and Yona will remain unfound till the end of time, pressed against each other in this cellar.

Ah, dreams. One of the reasons he enjoys his afternoon naps so much.)

She's about to say something else (and how sad is that, he knows that she's about to speak in pitch-black), just as he registers soft footsteps heading their way. His arms are wrapped around her – the space is too small for them to be anywhere else – so there's no way he can bring a hand to cover her mouth in time.

He could headbutt her – but then she'd probably yell and he has no urge to.

Well. Maybe some urge. He may be just a bit bitter that she'd headbutted him when he'd tried to kiss her. He may be a lot bitter at how damn oblivious she is.

But that leaves his options extremely limited.

He tries not to think too hard on it before he kisses her.

Thankfully, she doesn't headbutt him this time.

* * *

Shin-Ah is already leaning over to open the trapdoor leading to Hak and Yona – who he can definitely see, he'll never understand why anyone lets him be the 'seeker' in this game – when it happens. He pauses, staring, unsure.

Part of him wants to tear open the trapdoor, rip them away from each other – he, like all dragons, loves his master.

It's because he loves her that he walks away.

(Also, it would've been unbearably awkward to open that trapdoor.)

* * *

He knew that quite a few regrets would come from this. If he hadn't been pressured it never would've happened. Ever. Probably.

Right now those regrets don't matter. The princess is soft under him – she tastes like the wild, like exotic markets and promises to be kept. She tastes like his future, like everything he's ever wanted. He wants to devour her, wants to claim her, wants to take care of her.

She'd tensed, for just a moment, but now she's relaxed against him.

He doesn't hope for anything more.

(But oh, how he wants.)

* * *

She'd been about to say something before her lips were covered, effectively silencing her. The pressure is warm and soft – gentle, even. It's confusing, sure, but not bad. She stills for a moment, trying to figure out what's happening – it's the brush of Hak's hair on her cheek that clues her in.

Oh.

Alright then.

Her lips part the slightest bit, and immediately she can taste Hak. He's spicy, dangerous – it's far more enchanting than she'd ever thought kissing Hak would be.

Not that she'd thought about it.

His lips are chapped – she's sure hers are too. They've come so far from the palace. Still, for all the rough texture, he's actually quite... soft. Hesitant, almost. Which doesn't make any sense because Hak never hesitates.

Her arms come up, wiggling between him and the unyielding walls pressing them together. It's pure instinct guiding her; all rational thought's fucked to the wind. Left behind is a sort of blankness that comes from something entirely unexpected yet not entirely unwanted happening.

Their lips slide together chastely, sweetly.

Probably for the best – it's her first kiss. Anything deeper and she might have a meltdown.

He pulls away. She finds, absurdly, that she wants him to come back.

As soon as she registers that thought it's washed away by more rational matters. Yona had grown a lot since the castle, but she's still a teenage girl, and some things matter.

“Idiot!”

* * *

He can feel himself droop when she yells 'idiot'. It's a strikingly accurate moniker – he is an idiot, a stupid, fucki – “You can't just steal a woman's first kiss like that!”

He blinks stupidly at her. It's a moment before he composes himself, and he's never been so glad to be in pitch-black; his face had been doing something horrible transparent there.

He slides a grin on his face to replace it. Her first kiss, huh?

“Your _first kiss_, Princess?” He lets fake dramatics creep into his voice. “And here I thought someone like you would be swarmed with eligible suitors.” It's a ridiculous line, because at the palace she _was_ swarmed with suitors, and even caked in mud and unwashed for days the men in the towns they pass double-take.

“I have lots of suitors!” she snaps, pinching at his sides where her hands still rest. His grin widens to undoubtedly comical proportions – this is not a face he would ever make in daylight. Her hands lay flat against his sides again and her whole demeanor gentles. Hak follows suit, as always.

“I was saving it for... someone.”

Oh.

Of course.

“Well,” he rallies, leaning towards her, “if it makes you feel any better, I was saving mine for someone too.”

He knows she won't understand.

The lines of her body go taut against him and he realizes he's a fool, god, could he be more obvious, she'll think he's a cree--

“That was your first kiss?” she demands.

He sits in stunned silence for longer than is probably appropriate, but these last few minutes have not been good on his emotions. Finally, right when he can tell Yona's patience has run out, he manages, “Like I said, I was saving it for someone.”

He can feel Yona fuming. “Well,” she starts, in the haughty voice he almost never hears from her nowadays, “I'm _not_ sorry it didn't work out.”

Huh.

Impressively oblivious is still impressive.

“But,” she starts again, voice considerably smaller, “I'm glad you're the one who got mine.”

“Oh,” he says, feeling like it's been punched out of him. Quickly, so he can't be misunderstood, he adds, “I feel the same.”

He can feel her smile.

* * *

“Hey, Hak?” she asks after long moments of comfortable silence.

"Mm?"

“Why'd you kiss me, anyway?"

**Author's Note:**

> Second of all, this is probably the fluffiest thing I've ever written and one of the few times I've been sort of pleased with a oneshot. AKA, it's really out of my normal repertoire. If anything reads as 'off', I'd love to hear about it. 
> 
> On a similar note: I have no idea what I sustain myself on but it must be at least 75% attention from others. please give me reviews and kudos, I appreciate them quite a lot


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